


Mistakes

by ilsafausts (phoenix_cry)



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I’m sorry, Pain, someone gave me a prompt and then this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 14:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18918784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_cry/pseuds/ilsafausts
Summary: Ethan quite possibly made the biggest mistake of his life. Can he hope to fix it and set things right?





	Mistakes

_ Her blue eyes seemed to see straight into his soul as she stood before him, so close, the slight night breeze playing with her hair. His fingers itched to wrap themselves around the strands and pull her closer still. But he couldn’t. Not after the words he’d just spoken, still lingering in the air between them.  _

_ He felt her intake of air like a knife to his heart.  _

_ “I see,” she licked her dry lips before continuing, nothing further betraying her real feelings. “Why the sudden change of mind?” _

_ He didn’t know why he had expected anything else than her usual stoicism, why he had almost expected - wished? - for her to plead with him to change his mind. This was Ilsa Faust he had just broken up with, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to beg.  _

_ He resisted the urge to swallow and rip his own heart right out of his chest. His next words would accomplish that well enough on their own.  _

_ “I just don’t love you.” _

_ The hurt in her eyes tore his heart out of his chest and trampled it to dust.  _

Heart pounding in his chest and a headache pounding behind his eyes, Ethan woke up from his nightmare, drenched in sweat. Wiping his face with shaking hands, he wasn’t surprised to find tears still clinging to his cheeks. 

It had been almost three months since that fateful night, since she had turned her back to him and walked away, out of his life. 

It had been exactly what he had wanted to achieve, and yet, that didn’t make the outcome any less painful. 

Still, it was the only way to keep her safe.

At least until he had eliminated the threat and hunted down every last Apostle still out there, making threats against his happiness and endangering her life. 

His hands balled into fists and his teeth clenched. 

He missed her every single second of every day, but as long as she stayed far away from him, she‘d be safe. 

He just regretted that he had to break her heart in order to accomplish that. 

An hour later, he was sitting at the small kitchen table in yet another safe house, the ninth one in eleven days, going through the files he had put together. The coffee beside his elbow was now lukewarm, and he cringed as he took a sip. 

Behind him, he heard a door creak open, before Luther joined him at the table a moment later. 

“You’re up early.”

Ethan shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I heard you tossing. Wanna talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about.”

“How about the root of your sleeplessness. The fact that she’s not here anymore.”

“Which is exactly what I don’t want to talk about.”

Luther gave him a long, sympathetic look and gave him wrist a gentle squeeze. “Ethan, I know you’re hurting and talking about the source of the pain will make it hurt more, at least for the moment, but trust me, at some point that wound will fester and grow if you don’t talk about it eventually.”

Ethan sighed and rubbed his forehead, not meeting his friend’s eyes. 

Luther sighed and patted Ethan’s arm. “All right. Just know that I’m here for you, if you do want to talk.”

“I know.” He met his oldest friend’s gaze for a moment, after all. “Thank you.”

They both nodded and silently went to work, sifting through leads on the remaining Apostles. 

Ethan hadn’t explicitly told his team what had happened that had made him end his short-lived relationship with Ilsa. One day she had been a member of their team, the next she had been gone. Of course the guys had asked questions, badgering him, until he had reluctantly admitted that the Apostles had threatened him, threatened her life as revenge for his part in their leader’s death. 

Even dead, Lark still was a pain in his ass. 

Shortly after, Benji and Brandt joined them as well, going straight for the coffee pot before sitting down at the table with a short  _ Good morning _ .

“Heard you tossing and turning tonight,” Brandt stated, almost nonchalantly while sipping his coffee. 

Ethan groaned. 

Brandt ignored him. “I stayed out of it till now, but now it’s also starting to affect my sleeping schedule and we can’t have that, now can we? So, you either talk to us, or I’ll make sure you’ll be send on leave until you figure your shit out.”

They were all silent for a long moment, waiting to see how Ethan would react to such an ultimatum. 

“I already told you I broke up with Ilsa in order to fully concentrate on finding the Apostles. What else is there for you to know.”

“Well, for one, we all know it’s bullshit,” Brandt said, staring him down. “And we all know that Ilsa wouldn’t just leave in the middle of the night, without a good reason. And you guys breaking up doesn’t constitute as a good reason, because you’re adults and not fifteen years old anymore. So what did you do that made her leave?”

Ethan knew Brandt was right. Of course he was right. He also knew that he had been backed into a corner and it was time to come clean. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as just the thought of hurting her made his heart throb painfully. And he knew the guys wouldn’t be thrilled either. They had all grown rather protective of Ilsa. 

They were family. 

It was time to bite the bullet. “You already know that the Apostles threatened me, through her. They were going to kill her if she stayed with me.”

Benji leaned forward, brows furrowed. “What did you do, Ethan?” He pressed. 

Ethan swallowed hard. “I told her I didn’t love her.”

“Oh, you bastard,” Benji said, voice as cold as Ethan had ever heard him. 

“It was the only way to protect her.”

“I never thought I’d say this,” Luther sighed, shaking his head, “but you’re a fool, Ethan Hunt.”

“Wha-“

“Have you ever thought about the fact that she might be safer where you, where  _ we,  _ can protect her? And more importantly, have you ever considered the fact that she is a brilliant agent and doesn’t  _ need  _ protecting in the first place?” Frustration was oozing from every word coming out of Luther’s mouth, and slowly but surely, Ethan did begin to feel like a fool. And that he had made the biggest mistake of his life. 

Luther seemed to read his thoughts. “Sometimes...you make a mistake. You’ve got two choices: you either live with it, or you fix it.”

He leaned back in his chair with a drawn-out sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re right,” he admitted, meeting his friend’s eyes. “How do I fix it?”

“Easy,” Brandt said. “We find her and you admit to being an idiot and apologize.”

Ethan gave him a crooked grin and a nod. “I can do that.”

“Then let’s get started.”

 

*

 

In the end, they found the remaining eight Apostles before they found Ilsa, if only by a narrow margin. 

They had made an abandoned factory in Budapest their hideout, and Ethan felt a sense of satisfaction sweep over him, when the team stormed the old building and he saw the surprise on his enemies’ faces. 

The satisfaction lasted until he saw a figure emerging out of the shadows to his right and two other warring emotions took place in his heart. 

Relief and fear. 

Ilsa’s slim form crept along the outer edges of the factory hall, weapon at the ready, so far unnoticed by anyone but him. For one long, yet fleeting second, their gazes met, and Ethan felt whole.

And then all hell broke loose.

The Apostles jumped into action, opening fire on the intruders, while the team dove for cover and returned the fire at the same time.

With Ilsa providing cover fire, one Apostle fell, then another, until there were only four left. 

They were outnumbered, so finishing them off should have been easy, compared to the rest. 

However, one of the remaining adversaries had spotted Ilsa. Ethan saw him move, and opened his mouth to call out a warning, yet he was a split second too slow. 

Time seemed to slow down and fast forward at the same time, and he watched as the man aimed and fired at Ilsa’s form only half covered by a concrete pillar. Almost in slow motion, Ethan saw the bullet tear its way across the distance and sink into Ilsa’s body, blood splattering against the wall behind her as she stumbled back against it with the force of the impact. 

Her groan of pain was louder in his ears than any previous  gunshot. 

Ethan screamed in a fit of rage and, almost in a trance, finished off the last Apostle with a well-placed bullet, not even caring to watch how he went down. All he had eyes for was Ilsa. 

At a dead run, he crossed the distance between them and sank to his knees beside her, pants quickly getting soaked in her blood. “No, no, no, no,” he whispered, hands desperately pressing against the oozing wound in her stomach. 

Ilsa hissed, but her eyes opened blearily, gaze fixing on his face. “Fancy meeting you here,” she quipped, the words barely more than a whisper, but he had never been so happy to hear her voice. 

“Yeah, what’s a girl like you, doing in a place like this?” He joked back, if only to cover the terror cursing through his veins. 

“Saving your foolish ass, as usual.”

“Not sure I even deserve you saving me.”

“Maybe not. Yet here we are anyway.”

Their eyes met and the understanding he saw in hers almost made him lose his composure. 

“Not sure I deserve your understanding either.”

Ilsa chuckled, which turned into a coughing fit. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m still pissed about what you did. But I understand now why you did it. Not that your reasoning was sound  _ or _ logical.” She coughed again, her breath taking on a slight wheezing quality. He hoped to hell the others had managed to call an ambulance. 

He huffed a laugh, while also choking back a sob. “You’re right, I was a complete and utter idiot. And I know I don’t deserve a second chance either, but I hope you’ll let me make it up to you. Just...hang in there, all right?” He neglected to mention, how his plan had backfired and put her in danger anyway. 

“How can a girl resist,” she started before a groan of pain temporarily drowned out her words, “to see you begging on your knees?”

“You’re still flirting, even though you’ve been shot?” Benji exclaimed, almost hysterically, while dropping to his knees beside Ethan. “Unbelievable!”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Ethan saw Luther and Brandt join them, their faces reflecting the worry he felt. 

“What else do you want me to do?” She mumbled, eyes drooping. “Cry?”

“Well, no. I want you to be okay,” Benji said, squeezing her hand gently. Ilsa managed a small smile for her friend - even while bleeding out on the dirty ground, still wanting to make him feel better. 

Faintly, they could hear sirens in the distance, steadily coming closer.

The men all breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ll be… right as rain,” Ilsa breathed, her voice so quiet now they all had to lean forward to catch her words. Ethan pressed his hands harder against the wound, ignoring the warm sticky liquid oozing through his fingers. “I just need to rest...for a bit.”

“No,  _ no _ , Ilsa, love, you have to stay awake, do you hear me?” Ethan pleaded, desperate for his words to reach her. 

Two paramedics burst into the old factory, the wheels of the stretcher loud on the concrete floor. 

Ilsa’s eyes fell closed. 

 

*

 

Ethan felt a hand settle on his shoulder and give it a gently squeeze. A shaky sigh escaped his lips, landing in his lap. Shoulders hunched over, head hanging low, face resting in his hands, he knew he was a picture of misery. 

“Ethan…,” Luther started, but Ethan interrupted him ruthlessly, not in the mood for any platitudes. 

“I know. You’ve said it before,  _ there was nothing we could have done _ . That’s  _ bullshit _ and I’m really not in the mood.”

There was a moment of silence while Luther thought about his next words, before he too, offered a shaky sigh. “All right. Just know that we’re here for you.”

Ethan managed a nod and felt Luther retreat to a safe distance again. Not that he could blame him. The self-loathing he felt was probably palpable for the whole room.

They had been sitting in this hospital waiting room, with its uncomfortably hard plastic chairs, for almost six hours and there was no end in sight. 

Ilsa had still been alive when they had loaded her into the ambulance, but barely, and there had been no word from the doctors or nurses since. To say that Ethan’s nerves were frayed would have been an understatement. 

He’d already tried badgering, bribing, charming, and threatening the staff for any information, yet none of it had worked. 

He felt helpless and that wasn’t a feeling he was used to. 

Finally, another two hours later, the door to the operating room across the hall swung open, and a doctor clad in scrubs stepped out. Ethan was out of his chair before the door swung closed again. 

“Ilsa Faust?” She asked, as soon as she had stepped into the waiting room, her eyes landing on Ethan’s anxious form. 

Her tone held a no-nonsense quality to it, yet still managed to convey sympathy, a result of many years on the job, Ethan was sure. 

“Yes, how is she?” Benji asked before Ethan could find his words, him and the others stepping up to join Ethan and the doctor.

“It was touch and go for a while, but we’re positive she’ll make a full recovery, with lots of rest and physical therapy.” 

Ethan’s head swam, and he thought he might pass out, the sudden surge of emotion making the room tilt on its axis. Ilsa was going to be alright. That was all that mattered, any further words from the doctor, explaining the procedure and the damage the bullet had done, barely registering in his brain. 

Luther’s hand once again settled on his shoulder, this time to steady him as he swayed on his feet. 

“Woah, Ethan, steady now, buddy.”

Ethan concentrated on breathing in and out, and not sinking to his knees in relief. 

“Come on, let’s find you a chair,” Luther coaxed him, voice calm, and led him back to the chair he had just vacated. 

“Told you she’ll be all right. She’s a fighter, that one.” Benji piped in, smiling in relief. “And she knows she still needs to kick your ass for being an idiot.”

Ethan huffed a laugh and nodded earnestly. “I can’t wait.”

 

*

 

Three months later, Ethan found himself lying on his back and staring at the gym ceiling, yet again, trying to catch his breath. 

Ilsa’s face appeared in his line of vision, wearing a satisfied grin. “You going to be okay down there? Would you like a blanket and pillow?”

“Yes, yes, go ahead and gloat. You’ve earned it.”

“I’m not sure, actually. You’re not making this deliberately easy for me, are you?” She propped her hands on her hips and tilted her head in thought. “I mean, hitting the mat four times within five minutes? That’s so unlike you.”

“Trust me, my back doesn’t want to hit the mat any more than my ass does.” He said with a groan, finally sitting up and rubbing his tender lower back. “You’re on fire today.”

Ilsa shrugged and smirked. “What can I say, all that physical therapy really did it for me.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re back on your feet. Even if it means I’m not.”

Ilsa laughed and held out a hand for him. “Come on, let’s hit the showers and grab a drink, I think you’ve had enough ass-kicking for one day.”

“You’re too kind,” he said sarcastically, but gratefully let her help him to his feet, anyway. 

He’d been with her every step of the way, from the moment she had woken up in the hospital, to her last physical therapy session - reassuring her when it all became too much for her to handle, and cheering her on when she was well on her way to regaining her old strength. 

Along the way, she had forgiven him for pushing her away, lying to her about his feelings for her, and he had never been so humbled and grateful for her gracefulness.

He thanked the powers that be every day for allowing him a second chance at a shared life with her, and he swore to himself, that he would continue to make up for his past mistake,for the rest of his life, if she would let him. 

Judging by the playful kiss she pressed against his lips as she helped him back to his feet, his chances were pretty good. 

 

~fin

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked me to write Ilsa getting shot and almost dying, and well... I don’t like my baby getting hurt, but there you have it. 
> 
> Anyone need a hug?


End file.
